Fall 2027 PA OUTDOORS woods and waterways
The Last Buck
Reader submission by Mark Routch
It had been a successful morning hunt. My son-in-law, Ralph, had bagged his first deer, a small doe. We were all very proud of his first hunting accomplishment. My watch read 11:30 a.m., which meant it was time to head back to camp for lunch. Walking toward the car, my thoughts were quickly interrupted by a gunshot, just in front of me, then three more shots in quick succession. It sounded like my brother Kris’ gun, but he didn’t usually hunt on this side of the road.
It was the first day of the 2021 rifle season, and we were hunting out of a camp in southern Clearfield County. Camp was a little different this year. My dad was now in his 90s, and his days afield were over. He was content to putter around camp all day, taking naps, washing the dishes, building a fire and watching some football. Kris was in the midst of some tough cancer treatments that limited his ability to climb the hills and push the thickets. He wasn’t going to venture too far, and if he shot a deer, we had all promised to drag it to the car for him.
Kris was always a good hunter. He always seemed to be able to pick out a good spot that rewarded him with a nice buck. He was a “get up early” and “stay out late” hunter that liked to squeeze every possible minute of deer hunting into each season. He wasn’t afraid to explore new areas and push normal physical limits if it could improve his odds of getting a deer. He was a very independent hunter. Years ago, when we had to find new hunting grounds and we all decided to hunt the right side of the road, Kris opted for the lefthand side of the road. It was a difficult area to hunt (steep hills and streams), but he adopted it as his own hunting grounds.
From the time he was 16 years old, he used a Winchester 30-30 lever action rifle with a 4-power scope. As long as the deer were standing still, he was a good shot. But when the deer started running, he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. You always knew where Kris was in the woods. He'd fire four to five shots at a time, followed minutes later by four to five more. He was infamous for running out of shells and calling my son, Jordan (who also used a 30-30 rifle), to bring him more. His inaccurate shooting at running deer was a constant source of ribbing throughout his hunting career, and we loved him for it.
I’m not sure if it was part tradition/superstition or some frugality that prompted Kris to wear the same hunting jacket and pants for over 40 years. The bottoms of the pants were frayed and faded, but he was always proud to say that he could still fit in them. He loved the jacket because it had multiple pockets in the front and a huge back pocket to carry all of his cleaning supplies, extra gloves and snacks. “They don’t make ’em like this anymore,” he would say. It was only after the zippers broke and the jacket pockets got holes that he finally had to give up his favorite hunting outfit. Despite the new blaze orange outerwear, he still used the old 30-30 Winchester rifle.
Fast forward to our 2021 opening day hunt. When I heard the multiple shots, I unshouldered my rifle and began walking quickly toward the sounds. The shots seemed to be very close to our car. I crested the hill and looked down into the small plateau above the road. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, enough to make it easy to see through the woods. That’s when I saw Kris (in his new orange camo gear) slowly working his way down the side of the hill. I yelled over to him and he turned and gave me a “thumbs up” sign. I rushed over and observed the downed monster 10-point buck lying in the snow. Kris was so excited. After my congratulations and a hug, he told me the story.
He had been worried about climbing the hill from his stand on the lefthand side of the road. So, he left a little early to make sure he would get back to the car by 11:30 a.m. With a little time to spare, he walked about 50 yards up the tram road from the car and leaned against a large oak tree to wait. After a few minutes, he noticed movement off to his left. The big buck appeared out of nowhere, ran between Kris and the car, and at about 30 yards, headed down over the small hill to a flat. For Kris, four shots at a running deer usually meant four misses and a tail wave good-bye. But this time, the big buck dropped on the last shot and never moved again.
Within a few minutes, we had all gathered to congratulate Kris. We helped him tag and dress out the buck. After some pictures, we all took turns dragging the deer to the car, as promised. Because of the short proximity to the vehicle, it was an easy drag. He couldn’t have planned it any better. We loaded the buck onto the cart and headed back to camp for some lunch and to share some new hunting stories.
As we finished up our meal and prepared to drive the deer to the processors, Kris shared that he thought that this was the largest deer he had shot in rifle season at camp. We all had to agree. In addition to being his largest and most prized buck, it also turned out to be his last buck. Due to complications from his cancer issues, Kris never made it back to hunting camp for another season, and he sadly passed away in February 2023. We all have our own fond memories of hunting with Kris, but none will top that special day, when he harvested his final trophy. Whether it was the location (different side of the road), the timing (right before we were to meet at the car), the shooting accuracy (hitting a running deer), or the teamwork (plenty of helpers to assist with an easy drag), that “Last Buck” certainly was a deer of destiny.
It was the first day of the 2021 rifle season, and we were hunting out of a camp in southern Clearfield County. Camp was a little different this year. My dad was now in his 90s, and his days afield were over. He was content to putter around camp all day, taking naps, washing the dishes, building a fire and watching some football. Kris was in the midst of some tough cancer treatments that limited his ability to climb the hills and push the thickets. He wasn’t going to venture too far, and if he shot a deer, we had all promised to drag it to the car for him.
Kris was always a good hunter. He always seemed to be able to pick out a good spot that rewarded him with a nice buck. He was a “get up early” and “stay out late” hunter that liked to squeeze every possible minute of deer hunting into each season. He wasn’t afraid to explore new areas and push normal physical limits if it could improve his odds of getting a deer. He was a very independent hunter. Years ago, when we had to find new hunting grounds and we all decided to hunt the right side of the road, Kris opted for the lefthand side of the road. It was a difficult area to hunt (steep hills and streams), but he adopted it as his own hunting grounds.
From the time he was 16 years old, he used a Winchester 30-30 lever action rifle with a 4-power scope. As long as the deer were standing still, he was a good shot. But when the deer started running, he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. You always knew where Kris was in the woods. He'd fire four to five shots at a time, followed minutes later by four to five more. He was infamous for running out of shells and calling my son, Jordan (who also used a 30-30 rifle), to bring him more. His inaccurate shooting at running deer was a constant source of ribbing throughout his hunting career, and we loved him for it.
I’m not sure if it was part tradition/superstition or some frugality that prompted Kris to wear the same hunting jacket and pants for over 40 years. The bottoms of the pants were frayed and faded, but he was always proud to say that he could still fit in them. He loved the jacket because it had multiple pockets in the front and a huge back pocket to carry all of his cleaning supplies, extra gloves and snacks. “They don’t make ’em like this anymore,” he would say. It was only after the zippers broke and the jacket pockets got holes that he finally had to give up his favorite hunting outfit. Despite the new blaze orange outerwear, he still used the old 30-30 Winchester rifle.
Fast forward to our 2021 opening day hunt. When I heard the multiple shots, I unshouldered my rifle and began walking quickly toward the sounds. The shots seemed to be very close to our car. I crested the hill and looked down into the small plateau above the road. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, enough to make it easy to see through the woods. That’s when I saw Kris (in his new orange camo gear) slowly working his way down the side of the hill. I yelled over to him and he turned and gave me a “thumbs up” sign. I rushed over and observed the downed monster 10-point buck lying in the snow. Kris was so excited. After my congratulations and a hug, he told me the story.
He had been worried about climbing the hill from his stand on the lefthand side of the road. So, he left a little early to make sure he would get back to the car by 11:30 a.m. With a little time to spare, he walked about 50 yards up the tram road from the car and leaned against a large oak tree to wait. After a few minutes, he noticed movement off to his left. The big buck appeared out of nowhere, ran between Kris and the car, and at about 30 yards, headed down over the small hill to a flat. For Kris, four shots at a running deer usually meant four misses and a tail wave good-bye. But this time, the big buck dropped on the last shot and never moved again.
Within a few minutes, we had all gathered to congratulate Kris. We helped him tag and dress out the buck. After some pictures, we all took turns dragging the deer to the car, as promised. Because of the short proximity to the vehicle, it was an easy drag. He couldn’t have planned it any better. We loaded the buck onto the cart and headed back to camp for some lunch and to share some new hunting stories.
As we finished up our meal and prepared to drive the deer to the processors, Kris shared that he thought that this was the largest deer he had shot in rifle season at camp. We all had to agree. In addition to being his largest and most prized buck, it also turned out to be his last buck. Due to complications from his cancer issues, Kris never made it back to hunting camp for another season, and he sadly passed away in February 2023. We all have our own fond memories of hunting with Kris, but none will top that special day, when he harvested his final trophy. Whether it was the location (different side of the road), the timing (right before we were to meet at the car), the shooting accuracy (hitting a running deer), or the teamwork (plenty of helpers to assist with an easy drag), that “Last Buck” certainly was a deer of destiny.